Christmas for Beginners - Carole Matthews Page 0,25
it.’
‘You have a board of trustees?’
‘Yes. My partner and a group of businessmen own the land. They’ve granted us the lease here for ten years at a modest rent, but we’ll have to do a lot of fundraising. More than we currently do.’ I smile at him. ‘As you’ve probably gathered, that takes me well out of my comfort zone.’
‘I’d like to be able to help.’
‘We’d be grateful for any input.’ I take him past our two spotted Kunekune pigs, Salt and Pepper, who always look so smiley even though Pepper is a hen-pecked husband. We head towards Teacup’s stall. ‘Does that mean you’ll come and turn our lights on at the open day?’
‘Of course. It would be my pleasure. Not just that. I want to get my hands dirty too,’ he says. ‘I realise how much I’ve missed this. My sister runs the family farm now. She has a fairly big dairy herd. I opted for a career that’s nothing to do with agriculture and just being here makes me feel how much I miss farming and how much it’s still in my blood.’
‘That’s music to my ears.’ If I could change one thing about Shelby it would be that he enjoyed the animals here as much as I do. I know that he tries, but he’s not comfortable covered in mud or handling the working ends of livestock. Sometimes he’s not even sure which end is which. Despite saying he hates celebrity parties, he’s actually much happier chit-chatting with a glass of champagne in his hand than attempting to bottle-feed a lamb.
‘I mean it,’ Matt reiterates.
‘And I’ll take any help you can give.’ We cross the yard and stop at the next pen. ‘Here’s Teacup, our giant “miniature” pig.’ Teacup hauls himself to his feet and comes to greet us with some grunts. Fifty is right beside him.
‘This is Fifty, our pet sheep. He couldn’t stand up when he was born, but Bev and I nursed him night and day. And now here he is.’ Another one of our little successes. ‘We could walk Teacup up to our new piggy hollow, if you like. Before the weather turned too cold, the students spent a few weeks digging it out and putting some fencing round it.’
Let’s see what this mayor is really made of, I think, as I let our lovely pig and Fifty out of the pen. I give the mayor a bucket of pig nuts which will ensure that Teacup follows us. Fifty runs ahead with his awkward gait while Teacup totters after us – or, more accurately, after the pig nuts – as we walk along the track up to the muddy wallowing hole. I need to get some more pigs, I think. A curly tail corner would make everyone’s heart glad.
The mayor proves himself a natural with our porcine friend and Little Dog has already attached himself to Matt – and I think my dog is, generally, a very good judge of character. I think it will be a great addition to have the mayor around the farm. Look at the size of him for a start. He’s a man who could manage our massive Shire horses or sort out a stroppy sheep. It amazes me how comfortable I already feel with him, as that almost never happens.
When Teacup is settled in the wallow – literally as happy as a pig in muck – I take the mayor on a walk across the fields. Fifty turns and heads back towards the yard, clearly worried that he might miss something. We climb the stile and head towards the big field.
‘You’ve certainly got a beautiful piece of land here,’ he says. ‘No wonder you’re so happy.’
‘We were evicted from our previous farm to make way for HS2. Thankfully, my partner helped to save us.’ And I mustn’t ever forget how much Shelby has done for us. If he hadn’t stepped in we could have so easily gone under.
‘Does he live here too? I take it that’s your caravan I saw as I came in.’
‘Shelby has a home nearby,’ I say. ‘He works long hours so he’s not here as often as he’d like.’ Or, more accurately, as often as I’d like. ‘I live in the caravan with his son, Lucas. He came initially as a student and now works here. That’s how his father and I met.’ I see him frown. ‘It’s complicated, but somehow it works.’
‘Relationships seem to be these days,’ he agrees. ‘That’s why, at